


Duct Tape and Nuka Cherry

by ThursdayNight95



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-04 06:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14586837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThursdayNight95/pseuds/ThursdayNight95
Summary: Warren was lucky enough to be spared by the sole survivor of Vault 111, Nate. They soon become companions-- for as long as Nate can stand the stealing and foul attitude.Then Warren is introduced to an amazing settlement called Sanctuary. There he meets someone some kind of interesting. An asshole wearing goggles and a belt full of duct tape.If Warren wants to fit in with the paranoid and the amazing in Sanctuary, he's got to learn how to relax. But raiding ways don't change easy.(hmm, this has really taken a turn...)





	1. Ransacked

It's not like he would miss them. Not a damn bit. It just made him dizzy at the thought that he could've been part of the stomach-churning mess on the ground. Whoever did this had a vendetta. Or just some anger issues. They'd looted armor (good fucking armor that Warren wanted for himself) from the bodies. Pockets, empty. All those caps, fucking gone.

He should have been used to the smell of the gore. These bastards, these fucking animals loved fucking around with the bodies of the innocent people they captured. Messing with the guts. Placing them as decorations. Warren could never stomach it. Not even when it was people who deserved it.

Now was his chance to run. He quietly wondered if the killer was still here. All he wanted to do was gather up some food and leave. Probably to Goodneighbor. People around there knew him well enough. Treated him better than the folks at Diamond City, at least.

He was going to vomit. This was Reed he was stepping in. The fucker deserved it, but... Warren held his breath and tip toed around, trying to focus on the task. Get the food. Get out. No more running with Raiders.

"Hands up, asshole."

Oh fuck. Oh shit. He stood up straight and put his hands up, wondering where the voice was coming from.

"Okay. I wasn't gonna shoot ya anyway." Luckily his voice was smooth and strong. Had that edge that covered up how fucking scared he was. "I was looking for food so I could leave."

"Leave and do what?"

And in walked a pretty attractive man. Goddamn. Excellent. But now wasn't the time. He had a gun and had his finger on the trigger. And a pip-boy. Damn, Warren wanted a fucking pip-boy.

"I-I was gonna head out on my own or somethin', man. I'm sick of being part of these batshit crazy groups. First Far Harbor, then Nuka World. Now this fucking place? Everyone's fucking crazy." he scoffed.

The man frowned. He was very clean. Definitely not from here. He was from a vault, obviously, but not all the vault dwellers seemed that dazed. Probably suffering some sort of chem withdrawal.

And he had a stupid fucking gun.

"I bet the recoil on that could knock a brahmin over." Warren noted. "If you finished raiding this place, you might already have a gun I fixed up. Combat shotgun with less shitty recoil. Waay less shitty."

"Is it the locked chest next to the terminal?"

"Yeah. Look, I'm about to pass out. Can I leave?"

"Open up that chest."

The man followed him, gun pressed hard against the skin between his armor.

"I really ain't gonna shoot ya. I didn't like those assholes. Fucking glad they're gone. Just the smell and the sight makes me wanna hurl." he quickly undid the lock and watched the vault dweller dig through every thing. Pocketing all those goddamn caps. All that ammo, those weapons...

His mouth was watering. The felt the bile in his throat. He quickly ran to the corner, pulled up his mask and vomited onto the concrete.

"My name's Nate."

"Charmed." Warren said weakly. "Can... Can I get outta here?"

"Go ahead." Nate said. "Thanks for the weapons."

Warren left immediately, then took to vomiting in the alley. Where would he go now? Fucking hell, the crazy let him live. But where to? He had no food. No water. Nothing.

"Hey."

On top of everything, Warren almost shit his pants.

"What's your name?"

"Uhh, Warren." he said, voice weak from the vomiting. "Why?"

"We can travel together. If you're really through with the raiders, that is."

"Are you stupid or something? Do you trust that easy?"

"If you were gonna shoot me you would have done it already. Or threw a grenade in the building while I was in there."

"And who's to say you're not gonna have your fun and shoot me, huh?" Warren demanded. "I don't know what Vault you crawled out of--" he peeked around and saw the huge '111' on his back. "Okay. Well, now I do. But do you really--" he did a double take.

Vault 111? So Travis wasn't going crazy. This raiding asshole really came from that ice chest. Holy shit.

"You... You're from there?"

"Walked out a couple months ago. Some bastards shot my wife and stole my son." his voice was tight. "Nothing really feels real... But I'm gonna get Shaun back, if nothing else."

Warren wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"Oookay... Uh... I... I was gonna go to Bunker Hill." he said. "But if you want me to be your hired gun, well, you gotta hire me."

"After you vomited like that...?"

"Fuck you then, whatever." Warren holstered his gun and made his way to Bunker Hill.


	2. Sanctuary

Luckily Nate was nice enough to share. He had a lot of good food. And a lot of Nuka Cola, which Warren gleefully took off his hands.

"It's not really the same." Nate said one night. "It's all flat now. Used to be bubbly. Nice and cold. Great on hot days.

Warren sipped on his flat Nuka Cola.

"Just keep it in your ice vault." He shrugged. "Maybe it'll taste better."

Nate was awfully quiet after that. Boots stomping on broken ground. Fire fights in the distance.

"Don't be like that." Warren muttered. "I didn't mean it that way, idiot. If you want cold drinks so bad, it's cold in vault. Store it in there."

Nate only sighed. If he was looking for a shoulder to cry on, he picked the wrong fucking guy.

... Still. Warren felt a little bad. He couldn't begin to process living a life before the war and waking up 200 years later.

"Hey. Don't be so fucking down. Really ruining the whole 'adventure' mood I had goin' on."

He could tell Nate wanted to say something back. But he was busy sulking. Jesus Christ. But... C'mon. Put yourself in his shoes.

"Tell me more about what the world was like before the war." Warren said gruffly. "Pick your goddamn chin up before you run into a wall."

"Colorful. Running water. Showers. Peace. Everything was normal sized." he rattled off. "My old home and my Mr Handy were still there. It... was... weird."

"Can't even imagine that." Warren kicked a rock along the street.

"Traffic was so bad in this area."

"T...traffic?"

"Those cars used to drive around. A lot."

"You'd think the Brotherhood could get those cars to work." Warren said dully. "But nooo... Gotta waste time on a huge fucking eyesore."

Nate nodded. Warren kept close by, making sure he wasn't going to walk into a wall or anything.

*

Sanctuary. Immediately he was stopped by someone. They shoved the gun in his chest. And of course Warren reacted by yanking the gun away and throwing it on the ground.

"Wanna fuckin play?" Warren demanded, bringing out his own gun.

"Whoa! Calm down guys!" Nate stepped in between Warren and this smug looking prick. "He's with me, Robert."

"This * _raider_ *, General?" Robert demanded.

Warren growled and shoved Robert's gun back in his arms.

"He's not a raider anymore. He's just my friend."

"I've only known the guy a few days. He's not really my friend." Warren shrugged. "But he's handsome, huh?"

Nate chuckled. Robert scowled.

Houses, huh? And the place was loaded with turrets and guards. How the hell had he never heard of this place? Look at that, a huge... A huge... Thing? In the water?

"What's that?" Warren pointed.

"A water purifier."

"Aw fuck. Get me some of that."

"Nuka Cola probably runs through your veins. I'm surprised you could sleep with all that caffeine. You could really do with some of this."

Warren had wandered over to the purifier before Nate finished his sentence. Got his boots wet in river and inspected it. How long did this take to make? Holy fuck, there were TWO of them.

"How do I get the good water?" Warren shouted.

Nate rubbed his temples. Apparently he said something, which Warren couldn't hear over the generators and the purifier.

"WHAT?" He called.

"COME. HERE." Nate called back.

Warren scoffed and came back to the land, ears ringing.

"You coulda just come over there."

"The water pump is over here." Nate pointed.

A yellow house. Fuck, a suit of power armor. Tons of workbenches. And a market.

"How long as this place been here?" Warren asked, pulling out the dozens of empty bottles he had from his bag and stationing himself at the fountain. "This is my first time ever hearing the name Sanctu--"

A Mr Handy? Holy shit!

"Oh, hey Codsworth."

"Mister Nate! Hello! I see you've brought a friend!"

Holy shit. He wasn't even a crazy one. He was in working order, and even kinda clean! Warren almost dropped his bottle. Was this a dream? Or a trap?

"I sure did. Codsworth, Warren. Warren, Codsworth."

"Uhhhh... Hi, Codsworth. You're not gonna go haywire and kill us all, are you?"

"Of course not! I am a domestic model."

Alright. "Well, you're pretty badass." Okay, fill the bottles and chill out. He probably seemed like a little kid or something with how excited he was.

"Why thank you!"

Nate's house was apparently where he used to live before the bombs dropped. Must be weird to come back here.

"So, when did you come to the settlement?" Warren asked.

"It wasn't a settlement when I got here. Took a lot of team work to make it look like this. Me, Preston, Sturges, and the settlers made it look as good as it does." he said proudly.

"Preston... Garvey? The last Minuteman?" Wow. This guy was certainly something else.

"Not anymore. I'm the General now. Gonna help restore the Minutemen to their former glory and help the people of the commonwealth."

"Well aren't you just a saint." Warren said dully. "Next you're gonna tell me you... Fuck, I dunno. Got rid of the Institute or something."

Nate pondered this.

Warren went back to rearranging his backpack with all the new food and water he had. He'd only brought two guns and a few grenades with him. Hopefully he could find more and fix them up well enough to sell them.

"So, where are we headed?"

"Diamond City. There's a detective-- Nick Valentine-- and maybe he'll be able to help."

"Wait, so you spent all this time working on this place when you could've been looking for your son?" Warren howled with laughter. "Your priorities, man. Gotta respect 'em. Holy shit."

Nate frowned at him. But didn't have anything to say back.

"C'mon. Uh, they probably won't let me in there, just saying."

"Did you murder someone?"

"No way. I just stole some food and guns. So yeah. Just warnin' ya."

"Ooh boy. I sure picked quite a character, didn't I?" Nate whistled, eyebrows raised.

Warren snickered and made sure his boots were on tight marched toward the gate.

"General!"

Shit.

"Yeah?"

Warren turned around and felt frozen.

Holy shit. This guy had a pompadour. And some sweet fucking goggles. And a tool belt full of duct tape. He had to be the handiest and dandiest guy Warren had ever seen.

Shit, he might need to vent his mask just so he could breathe.

"Finally finished fixin' up your power armor. Even upgraded it a bit. Now do me a favor and don't go back into Forged territory, would ya? Really warps the metal."

"Awesome, thank you Sturges."

Wowwwwwww. Holy shit. What a hunk and a half.

Warren, being the moron he was, walked up to him. He'd intended to sound cool and slightly intimidating, but not too much, to grab the guy's attention, but instead it came out like a goddamn dying whale.

"Uhhhhhhhhhh... N-nice go-- nice goggles..."

Sturges was taller than him by a few inches. Could probably throw him against the ground and make a crater. Not that Warren would mind. And he had an awfully nice demeanor around him. Like a teddy bear.

"Thanks. Nice mask." Sturges winked.

Ooooh he had to get out of here. Nate seemed a surprised at the speed he ran, and even more shocked the guards, especially Robert, didn't start shooting at him.

"Sorry General. Tell 'im I didn't mean no harm by it." Sturges chuckled.

"Will do. Thanks again, I'll be back for that power armor soon!"

"No problem!"


	3. Roaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how did a man this stupid survive in the commonwealth so long

Before Nate could blink, Warren had the gun against the caravan leader's temple, other hand balled up in a fist on the collar of the man's shirt.

"Don't you fucking screw us over." Warren said gruffly.

"Stop that." Nate hissed, pulling them apart and helping the man back to his feet. "What the fuck?"

"He's fucking overcharging! I've never fucking seen a stim be 500 caps. What a fucking asshole." Warren spat. "You just gonna let him fucking play you like this? Give us all your shit." Warren said firmly. "Now."

The man quickly began handing over bags of items.

Nate gave them back immediately, along with a hefty amount of caps. But Warren was fuming.

"You're a fucking goody-twoshoes!" Warren shouted. "Holy shit, the guy was scamming us!"

"Yeah, his prices are high, but did you ever think that MAYBE you shouldn't fucking rob him over it?"

"And let him keep screwing people over?"

"At least he's not fucking killing people over some caps!"

"I was never gonna kill him! He was handin' over all his shit! We could've even had the brahmin!"

"Listen to me. If you want to keep travelling together, I never want to see that bullshit again."

Warren holstered his gun. Sighed loudly. Continued down the dusty trail. Nate was a fucking softie. That was the problem. Nate doesn't fucking know how the world works.  Not anymore. And Nate could feel the anger steaming from Warren as they walked over cracked roads and through ruined buildings.

What a fucking pussy.

-

Feral ghouls. Nice. The speed they had was ridiculous, and their fingers were sharp, could easily slice an artery.  And they were rushing right over.

Warren held his breath and shot his gun from as far as they could. And then his gun wasn't in his hands anymore. And he was on the ground. Nate was attacking the ghouls, but they were crowding him.

Warren couldn't feel his legs, but grabbed his gun back and shot the ghoul in the head. As it fell, he managed to get up and helped calm the storm around Nate, who had ended up fighting most of them by himself.

Before he knew it, the ghouls were dead. Nate picked some caps from them and gingerly handed them to Warren, along with a stimpak.

"There. Take a breather." Nate said, catching his own breath.

Warren stabbed the stimpak in his chest and steadied his breathing.

"Why... aren't you using the rest of it?" Nate asked, watching Warren put the half used stimpak in his bag. "You're supposed--" Nate face palmed. Hard. "Those stupid half-used stims were yours, weren't they?" he laughed. "In Backstreet Apparel?"

"It's not fucking stupid. What if I need the other half, dumbass?"

"You're supposed to use the entire thing."

"I do! Eventually. Usually within the next few hours."

"Because you didn't use it all the way."

"I didn't know you were a doctor too." Warren rolled his eyes behind his mask and got up with Nate's help.

"I don't need to be a doctor to give you common knowledge."

"Whatever." Ghouls smelled fucking horrible.  But sometimes they had some good loot. Apparently Nate didn't need this golden watch. Or this toy car. Or-- he gasped quietly-- this duct tape! He joyfully wore the tape around his wrist as he sifted through the ghouls. Holy shit, more tape! Sturges would be so happy. Then he'd swoon and fall head over heels for him. Then they'd become the meanest duo in the commonwealth.

"You alright? You've been sitting there for about 3 minutes." Nate asked.

"Huh? Oh, uh, I'm fine."

"You should really use the rest of that stimpak, War. Really helps the whole healing thing." he sounded a bit concerned.

"Fine, fine, since you're being such a baby." Nate meant well. He really did.

Ooooh. That didn't feel good. At all. His mouth went bone dry. As if Nate could read his mind, he handed Warren some fresh water.

"You trying to kill me with this stimpak stuff?"

"Quite the opposite, actually. You're gonna feel a little numb and you're gonna get a dry mouth, but it'll go away."

Warren sighed loudly. "... Thanks, doc."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i never write action... but i might use this as an excuse to practice


	4. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren doesn't want to get involved in plots people have played plenty of times, goes where he isn't wanted instead

The urge to turn around and give all this shit he was carrying to Sturges was really nagging at him. It didn't help that they would probably be in the 'green diamond' for  a day or two. Where the hell was he gonna store all these toy cars? And this 10th roll of duct tape?

"Hey. We ain't stupid. You know you ain't allowed in, stickyfingers." A guard nudged Warren. God, he'd love to put a gun to their head or a bullet in their arm just to get them to shut the fuck up. "At least not 'till next week."

"I got a fucking bullet with your name on it, asshole." Warren muttered.

"Uh," Nate cleared his throat. "He's travelling with me. We're here to see Nick Valentine."

Surprisingly, this guy's word was enough to get security off his back. Warren was racking his brain to figure out just how far this guy had gone-- he'd only been out of the vault, what, a month? No, a couple months. How much fame did this guy fucking earn? Thinking about it too much got Warren angry. Even worse, that reporter girl was here, bounding up to Nate.

"Blue!" she cheered. "You ready for that interview?"

"Jesus, can we get in and get out?" Warren complained. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch. He just needed to see that guy again.

"Oh. Looks like you made friends with the raider who stole the town's gun supply. How'd you get back in?"

"Your boyfriend let me in."

"The entire gun supply?" Nate blinked. "Jeez. Uh, as long as it's a short interview, I guess I don't mind."

Warren sat outside the house during that time, not really interested, and definitely not wanting to listen to the reporter talk.

The humidity was going away. Cold breezes were slipping through, the armor was getting easier to breath in. His mask, too. Maybe it wouldn't be so suffocating in here.

He squeezed his hands. Popped his neck.

Most of the guards were watching him like a hawk. Even the merchants-- except Takahashi. He'd never steal from him. Even though that Nuka Cola Quantum... that was tempting. It always had been.

He got up, stretched, and started to make his way over until a guard stopped him.

"I'm going to buy some noodles, asshole."

"You wait until your friend gets back. Otherwise he's gonna be missing a partner. Got it?"

Jesus Christ. So Warren went and sat like a sad, bored puppy at the door. Nate had better be happy Warren had a bit of respect for him (or mild attraction), because otherwise he would've gone on as usual, not giving a shit what happened. But he didn't want to embarrass him.

There was that lady. Chopping her weird meats.

And Doctor Sun. Being a doctor. Making doctor things. Huh, well it wouldn't be a bad idea to go see him, and maybe talk about stimpaks. Because apparently Warren had been doing it wrong all his life.

And sweet Takahashi.

Ughhhhh. He put his head down. This was taking too long. By now he would at least be cleaning his gun, but he might get attacked. So he took out his bag and went through it again. Maybe he didn't need all these toy cars. And he had no use for wooden blocks. Cigarettes were a huge need, but all these were were empty boxes.

Ughhhhhh! He was bored!

Luckily before he fell asleep, Nate was back. Oddly enough he didn't smell like sex or sweat like he'd expected.

"Didn't get lucky?" Warren asked. "Hey, they won't let me take a step without you. I wanna get some noodles and go to the doctor."

"Alright. And no, Warren. Not looking to 'get lucky' right now."

"Heh. Right now, huh?"

Nate didn't answer.

He seemed dazed again, but Warren didn't pay much attention-- he was keen on buying noodles.

"Does your handyman like noodles?" he asked, counting some bottle caps.

"You mean Sturges? Uh, I don't know."

"Takahashi, baby, get me one more bowl, thanks." he pushed some more caps to the Protectron, then watched as he... produced the noodle cup. "Alright, let's go."

"You know the way back? I'm here to see Nick, remember?"

"Well, he knows me already. I took one of his cigarettes. Tell him I said hi." He glanced over at the doctor. Nah, he'd find a doctor somewhere else. "How can I tell your guards to let me in? I wanna give Sturges some stuff." He gasped and offered his third noodle bowl to Nate. "Got this one for you."

"You know, you can be really thoughtful sometimes." Nate smiled warmly. "Thanks. The secret word is 'Bufftats.' If I find Sanctuary raided--"

"You won't. I just wanna unload this stuff. Maybe we can meet back at that Drive-In. Or, hell, maybe you'll catch up with me. Dunno." he shrugged.

+

The walk back was oddly lonely. No one to talk to, tell him he was wrong or something, and most importantly, he just really wanted to get to Sanctuary. Surely the handyman wasn't as excited as Warren was. In fact, he probably hated him. The guards in Sanctuary did. And Nate wouldn't be there to speak his magic words. Bastard.

He'd stopped and rested at some camps. The raider camps. The good thing about still looking like a raider is that they didn't shoot him. A couple raiders asked him about the Tar incident.

"Tar? Haven't heard that name in years." Warren muttered. "Did he ever get his ass fucking beat?"

"No." the raider said. "I heard he's pretty angry."

Warren sat closer to the fire.

"When * _wasn't_ * he?"

"No, man, I heard he's trying to get back at anyone who screwed him over. Remember Felix? He's dead."

Warren swallowed hard. "Well... Felix was a dumbass and actually attacked him."

"And you stole Tar's guns and supplies and ran away. You better sleep with one eye open, buddy. Keep your good gun on ya."

"Do... you know where he is now?"

"Last I heard he was around Salem."

Warren let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, girl. I'm gonna head out."

"Yeah? Where to?"

Sanctuary would get raided to pieces if he mentioned it.

"Wandering. On my own for a while."

"Well alright. See ya."

-

It was the asscrack of dawn when he made it to the gates. Bullets cracked the ground underneath him.

"Hey! I have gifts, you fucks! And Nate told me the word was 'bufftats'!"

"Oh yeah? Where is he, then?" Oh jesus, that grating voice belonged to that one guard. Robert, right?

"In Diamond City."

"And why aren't you with him?"

"Because they don't like me in Diamond City. Let me the fuck in, man."

He was let in. And it felt nice, they had some sort of heat running near the houses. The apple of his eye was fixing up a generator. Warren cleared his throat and shuffled through his bag, trying to think up something to say.

God. What a handsome son of a bitch. He wasn't wearing his overalls today, but some jeans and a leather jacket. Maybe he was an Atom Cat? Well. There was no Atom Cat on his jacket, but... Jesus. Was it summer again? Maybe there was another bomb, cuz it was hot as hell.

Fuck, he was staring.

And others were staring at him.

Whispering.

He could see people with their hands near their guns.

He felt sick. Just give Sturges the gifts and get out.

He stepped onto the ruined concrete, clearing his throat to signal his entrance. Sturges finished tightening a bolt and dusted himself off and greeted him with a smile.

"Well! If it ain't Warren. Whatcha need?"

His stomach flopped. Oh shit. Maybe he should've just waited for Nate. Ugh...

"I... I brought... Y-you-- you like tape?" Jesus Christ, he sounded like a fucking idiot!

"Pretty dang useful, that's for sure." the handyman nodded. His eyes widened as Warren set a pile of tape on the counter.

"And... S-some... Some little cars...?" Warren asked nervously, shaking the toy car. "I thought of you when I saw them..."

"My house could use some decor, that's for sure. We can store all this tape in the workbench. Wanna come with me to my house?"

"So you can kill me, right?"

Sturges blinked. Furrowed his brow. "Uh. No.  Just wanted to find an excuse to get to know you a little better."

Warren blushed deeply. "S-sex??"

Sturges massaged his temples and took a deep breath. "Also no."

"Okay... Uh... I... I don't like being here." he cleared his throat and vented his mask. "I just wanted to give you a-all... all this, uh, stuff... S-so... Bye."

"Hey!" Sturges called, catching the running Warren's arm. Warren had almost pushed him to the ground on impulse, but he didn't, he just froze and caught his breath.

"W-what?"

"I wanted to say thank you. Means a lot that you're thinkin' of me." He smiled warmly.

"Uh..."

He had a nice, strong grip. But it wasn't rough, just enough to keep him from running. He sort of ached to do something stupid like... Like touch his hand for an extended period of time. And just look at his stupid face. And maybe fish with him. That would be nice.

"Are... are there fish in this river?" he squeaked.

"Mm? Probably not around the purifier." This caused Sturges to stop the contact that was giving Warren weak knees and look to the river. Warren caught the glares of some farmers as he looked too.

"Do you wanna--" he cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and fiddled with the buckles on his armor. "Nothin', uh, nevermind."

He was probably destroying this guy's reputation. It would be better if he left and only showed up with Nate.

"You like fishin'? Never really struck me for a fisherman."

"I... I fished a lot. My old home--" Maybe home wasn't the right word. Anger swelled in him at the state of the damn place that he once took so much joy in. "I used to live on the Island in Maine."

"Oh, really? What made ya come here to this place? Allergic to mirelurks?"

"Wow, you're funny." Warren said tightly. But he stepped a bit closer to him and tried to relax. "Uh. No. Crazy shit started happening and I ran. --Okay, not literally ran, but I got the fuck out of there."

"Damn. Sorry to hear that." Was he genuinely sorry? Weird. He looked pretty bummed. But that didn't make sense, Sturges had no reason to feel sorry. "I hope you find a home somewhere. It's where you make it, you know?"

"You're pretty optimistic. It would be cute if it wasn't naive." There we go. Finally getting his edge back.

"You think so? Dunno, I've been through some stuff too. Maybe not on your level but... We're all livin' in this world, aren't we?" he sounded annoyed and had folded his arms. Fuck. "I mean what I said, though. I hope you can find it again. Home, that is."

Warren swallowed hard. Why did this asshole sound so fucking genuine? And what shit did he go through? He didn't have time to ask-- a very furious looking woman was making her way there quickly, and Warren fled without a word.


	5. Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren gets a bit emotional

Sturges wasn't deaf, nor was he stupid. These people hated Warren. Whispers and muttering about the General letting in such a dangerous criminal seemed to follow Warren even out of the gate.

"Hey, uh, I don't think it's fair for you to shoot at him before he gets to the gate." Sturges said to the guards as they watched Warren dash off. "Or at all, really. He hasn't hurt anyone."

"You realise that's the guy who not only stole guns from Diamond City, but his own fucking gang? You think we're just gonna ignore that? Sorry. He doesn't get any special awards for trying to suck your dick  Sturges."

"Lay off the snark, Rob. Look, if you guys keep pointing guns at him and shit, he's only gonna be on high alert and more than likely to snap. You all get that, right?"

"Don't tell us how to do our job." Robert growled. Jesus, what got into these people? Sure, no one was a saint, but... Jeez.

"Look. Just sayin'. I don't appreciate it. This is Sanctuary. Give him a chance to prove himself."

Robert turned back around, watching the wasteland carefully.

-

Warren was a ways from Sanctuary, but close to the river. Looking for fish. Sturges found this to tug at his heart for some reason, and cleared his throat to make himself known. He watched as the man tensed. Hands flinched to his gun and he turned around quickly. Once he recognised it was Sturges, his shoulders relaxed some and he sighed deeply.

Sturges sat next to him. Really, he had other things he could be doing, like finishing up the walls and the lights, or continuing to upgrade the General's armor... Well. No, other people could do it. It wasn't selfish to be doing this, was it?

"Uh... H-hi..." Warren squeaked. "I didn't want you to follow me..."

"Want me to leave?" he asked empathetically.

"... Not really." Warren admitted. "Um... So... Where are you from? And I noticed you... like fixing things? Do you like modding guns?"

"Quincy." The memory felt like a dull ache in his chest.

"Shit, man. That sucks. That's what you were talkin' about earlier, huh?"

Sturges nodded.

"Well. Dunno how safe you feel here with those dicks guarding the place."

"Pretty concerned now that I see how they treat you. I don't like it. But Sanctuary's a nice home. Fresh food, water, showers, plenty to work on... And a new friend named Warren."

Warren snorted and messed with the hoses on his mask. Took a deep breath.

"You'd do that? Ruin your rep by gettin' involved with an ex-raider?" he asked sheepishly. "You deserve better than that."

"Ah, I don't mind them none."

So they talked for a while. Sturges watching how Warren seemed to loosen up, sit back and look at him a bit more while talking. What was he like under the mask? His hands and voice were smooth (and admittedly very, very nice to listen to), so he probably wasn't a ghoul. Maybe he just thought it looked cool. And with the weather getting colder, he was sure it would come in handy.

Before he knew it, Warren was sat awful close, but Sturges didn't have the heart to scoot away. He sort of liked it.

The ex-raider talked a lot about fishing. And how Nuka Cola was 'at least six-thousand' times better than Vim. Then he sighed and looked at Sturges for a solid 15 seconds.

Oh jeez. Sturges looked at the water, cheeks hot. Was there something on him? Was he really getting flustered like this?

"How'd you do it?" God, he sounded... Concerned? Maybe?

"Do what?" Sturges managed to look back at him.

"All that shit in Quincy... And you're still... I dunno. Happy."

Sturges chuckled. "Well, it hurts. I... I wasn't... I wasn't hurt as badly as Jun and Marcy. And my... My friends. But I made it. We survived the Gunners. The ghouls. And with Nate's help, the raiders in Concord. Obviously I was meant to be here." he smiled a bit.

For a moment he felt Warren's hand hover over his. Probably an accident, he was just repositioning himself.

"Yeah? Well... Okay." Warren sighed. "Keep it up, I guess."

"I've got some Nuka Cola in a chest, if you want some." The sound of screams in the back of his head were getting loud. The explosions, the... The everything. He figured if Warren wasn't gonna come back with him, he'd have to fix something to distract himself.

"You're really trying to lure me back in?" Oh goodness, he had a handsome laugh. "Uh... Sure... But maybe I'll take you up on that invite inside your house."

"It's not a sex invite, by the way." Sturges snickered. "Just some Nuka Cola and... I think I have some crisps and Fancy Lads, too."

"Well fuck, count me in!" Jesus, he got excited fast.

÷

Warren was amazed by the sheer sense of order in this place. The walls of even the houses were fortified almost as much as the walls around the place. A red couch and chairs, a dining table, a radio and electricity... Fuck. He watched Sturges roam through some chests before pulling out the colas and snacks-- and some beer.

"Gettin' out the good stuff?" Warren wriggled his eyebrows, though he knew Sturges couldn't see it.

"As good as it gets. Haven't been able to find any whiskey lately."

"Ever had whiskey with Nuka? Shit's excellent."

"We can try it together sometime."

Damn, he was smooth.

He noticed the shelves where the radio was. Lined with tiny figures-- Warren had seen those on boxes before. Little model robots. And the toy cars Warren had given him. There was other stuff too, like books and magazines; one issue of Hot Rodders, a car manual, and a Grognak comic.

What a fucking nerd. Warren admired the rest of the house before sitting on the chair.

Sturges basically listened to Warren talk for about an hour. Though, in Warren's defense, Sturges was more interested in listening. He couldn't blame Sturges; Warren was pretty cool after all.

And when it came down to actually conversing with Sturges, his chest got tight and he needed to vent his mask again, and he violently wished he hadn't decided to visit. He had no business with this guy. He's a fucking settler. A big teddy bear settler who was entirely too good for him. So during a lull in the conversation, Warren placed a little sloth toy in his spot on the table and got up.

"Bathroom's out back." Sturges said.

"Thanks."

But Warren didn't go to the bathroom, as Sturges found out a worrying ten minutes later.

Yelling had broken out. Warren was seething.

"I was already fucking leaving! Like I wanna stay in your shitty fucking hoity-toity settlement!" Jesus his throat hurt. Hurt even worse with a lump stuck in it. "Fuck you!"

"Don't come back either, you bastard!"

Sturges had run out of the house and stepped in the middle of them, but before he could say a word, Warren had left.

He was too furious at himself for getting so emotional, so caught up in this fucking bullshit. He ripped his mask off and balled his fists in his hair.

Mentats would be nice. Or some buffout. Hell, even some fucking alcohol. Why was he crying? What kind of fucking pussy cries over a fucking no-name settler yelling at him?

With a frustrated growl he got back up. He'd be sleeping at the Red Rocket tonight.


	6. leg hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warren hurts his leg, and meets someone awfully familiar.

The goddamn sun in his eyes. The worst way to wake up. Even in a fucking building it knew how to weasel its way into his face.

His plans today were simple. Get some caps. Forget about Sanctuary and everyone in there. Especially Sturges. And to maybe walk to Goodneighbor. But of course Sanctuary had to be so goddamn out of the way.

He popped his back. Stretched. Sighed. When the hell was Nate gonna get back, anyway? Sure it's only been a day, but it was easily one of the worst days he's had.

Okay... That was a lie. As much as he hated admitting it (did he really hate thinking it, though?), he enjoyed spending time with Sturges as long as he didn't pay too much attention to it.

There was food here. He stuffed it into his backpack. Some caps. Ooh! More Fancy Lads. And--

Blueprints?

These weren't pre-war either. These were recent.

Oh.

A sinking feeling washed over him.

He unpacked all the items he stole (what was consumed couldn't be unconsumed, though), and tried to remember where exactly they came from, rushing now at the idea of the person coming back and attacking him.

He made his way out quickly and--

"Mornin', Warren."

Fuck! He scrambled for his mask in his bag and pulled it over his head, praying that this fucking asshole didn't see his face.

"Let me fucking guess. You live here?" his voice was muffled and quite angry.

Sturges looked exhausted. Did he not get any sleep? He worked too much.

"This is where I work on Power Armor and the little, complicated things."

"Look-- I didn't realise all that shit was yours, in that room back there. I gave it all back, but it's out of place."

"Thanks. You can take it, though. You'll need it more than I do."

"Are you tired?"

"Kinda." Sturges shrugged, getting out some blueprints from a chest. He was holding something back. "Hope you don't think I'm followin' ya around or anything. You just happened to be here."

God.

"You didn't see my face?"

"Nope."

"Okay. I'm leaving." He took the Fancy Lads and turned on his heel.

"You're coming back though, right?"

Concern? Really? Or was he just, like, hoping  Sturges wanted him around?

"Uh. If Nate brings me here."

"Look, I'm so sorry about them. Sanctuary's supposed to be about hospitality. A real Sanctuary."

"I get it." Warren muttered. "See ya around."

"Uh... You left this little guy at my place." Sturges produced the sloth toy.

"Keep 'im. He doesn't like being cramped in my backpack all the time." Though he was a nice thing to hold when falling asleep. And his last fond memory of Nuka World. Fuck, who needed it. It was just sentimental garbage anyway.

"Does he have a name?" Sturges wanted to keep him trapped in conversation for some grating reason.

"Pete. From the song." Warren said gruffly. "Bye. For real."

And he left swiftly before that fuck could suck him back in. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. This was worse than gun fights.

+

His gun was jammed. His fucking gun was jammed. After he'd fucking cleaned it. And the dogs weren't fucking around. Their teeth dug into the bone and left deep cuts, trying to rip away the armor.

With his breath faltering, he managed to switch to his bat and take a head-on approach. His fucking leg was getting feeling back. Why was it always his leg? Was mobility always gonna be a fucking issue? He didn't have time to think-- the mongrels went for the bit of exposed skin on his side-- Lucky block with the bat. The sound of contact made him sure this mongrel was down. The alpha and the second dog were circling him now. Drop a grenade and run? No...--

Fuck, his arm!

He swung his bat with abandon, pain shooting through his body, trying to think about all the chems he had. No Jet. No Jet. But...

He instead pulled out some psycho. Didn't remember much after that. But his throat hurt. And he was starving. He cooked the dog meat up with some noodles and gulped down two bottles of water.

Huh? When the fuck did he get into Goodneighbor? And why was this bald fuck with sunglasses looking at him? And why was it so hard to stand?

"Huh, Doctor Amari said you'd snap out of it soon." he said. Oh he sounded familiar. Really, annoyingly familiar. "Guess I better tell her you're alright."

Warren was a bit too dazed to respond. His head was swimming, his limbs were numb. And actually wrapped up.

Goodneighbor was lit up. The strings of lights always looked cute, he thought, and the neon was always pleasing to the eye at night. The place smelled like alcohol and chems and food. Considerably less safe than Sanctuary, but he certainly felt more at home here. Though the feeling of missing Sturges was nagging at him. But he put the thought in the back of his mind and tried to recall what happened.

Well, he knew what happened. He took some fucking psycho. Over some dogs. Dumbass. But how did he get here? He was only a few hours from Sanctuary. Did he walk? Did he take some Jet too? His chest hurt.

"You alright?" the egghead was back. "Amari said to take it easy on that leg."

"Do you remember how I got here?" Warren asked gruffly.

"Sure did. You came down from a blimp with a parachute and--"

"Fuck off, no I didn't." he huffed. "I know you from somewhere."

"Do you?" the drifter asked, raising his lack of eyebrows. "Huh. The name's Gerald."

Warren narrowed his eyes. This fuck's name wasn't Gerald. It started with a D. Like Dean, or Donovan or something. But he didn't feel like getting into it.

Then he decided it didn't matter how he got here. He just felt ill suddenly and made his way to a grate and vomited in it.

No more Psycho. His vision was blurring. It was suffocatingly hot, even with his mask off.

Gerald helped him up and back to Doctor Amari.

She injected him with something, gave him some water, and told him to sleep. He had no real choice.

And when he woke up, mysterious stranger Gerald was gone. Amari was very serious about Warren not putting too much pressure on the leg. And to stay off the chems.

Warren sifted through his cap bag and pulled out a handful.

"It's strange how it's always your same leg." she said, not noticing as he placed the caps next to the scalpels and other sharp pointy things.

"Thanks doc... I'm going to the Third Rail."

"Warren!" she called. "I'm serious! Be careful on that leg or you're going to lose it."

Warren felt sick. "Thanks." He limped out of there until she handed him a crutch. Which he took, embarrassed.

"No, darling, the other arm."

He huffed and changed it to his left arm and  with Amari's help made it back outside. And straight into the Third Rail. Whitechapel Charlie greeted him with an 'oi, it's the ol' rabblerouser 'ere again.'

He bought a whole bottle of whiskey. It was a pretty steep price, but maybe he could give it to Sturges.

"Wot, yer leg's messed up again?"

"Congrats on using those three eyes." he said dully. "Let me get a vodka, too."

"So you can pass out again? Alright."

So he drank. Got drunk. He did pass out. These days were gonna be a blur if he was just stuck in one place for... Who knows how long. The faster he could get it over with.

Egghead had come by again and bought some chips and slid them over to Warren, who was on the couch.

"So. You do look familiar." he chuckled. "I'm Deacon."

He could barely hear it through the roaring in his ears. His head hurt like a motherfucker.

"You're here a lot..." For years, actually.

"Yup. And you've been hanging out with a guy named Nate, huh? You left Diamond City without him."

Warren groaned. "Fuck Diamond City. They all have shitty fucking guns and an even shitter attitude." he slurred. "Hey..." he pulled himself up and leaned on Deacon's shoulder. "Come to the hotel with me..."

"No way, buddy. Unless you just need someone to tuck you in." He chuckled.

"More like * _fuck_ * me in. Haha..." he was on the verge of passing out. "Fffine. You're missing out." he did a big shrug. "Do I know you? I know you."

"I think this is the most we've talked in a long time, Warren." Deacon chuckled. "C'mon, big guy. I'll tuck you in. Easy on that leg."

"Shut the fuck up about my leg." Warren spat.

-

There were murmurs in the hotel. Not about him, but about Tar. The bastard had apparently gotten ahold of a hefty amount of missles. The thought alone made Warren need to catch his breath.

He'd attacked the Atom Cats.

He felt sick.

"Did they survive?" Warren asked, turning around on the couch, no longer interested in the water he was nursing. He noticed one of the guests wince when they saw his face. Fuck.

"Yeah. They have to fix a lot of their armor, though."

Thank fuck. He sighed and decided to unnerve them a bit more.

"Do you know where Tar and his pack of assholes went next?"

"Heard rumors they went to recover over at University Point." the guest rolled her eyes. "If their idea of recovery is getting crushed by super mutants, I'm all for it."

Fuck yes.

He went back to his water and antibotics Deacon had given him. That guy was really fucking nice. Too nice for his own good. Like Sturges. Only Deacon... Deacon wasn't a settler. Sturges probably wouldn't like it here. Fuck! There he went, thinking about Sturges again! And how disappointed he looked as Warren walked away. And how somber and tired he seemed. He should've asked questions. He should've vented a bit. He shouldn't have just left like that. But what choice did he have?

He sighed heavily. Later he'd have to buy a new mask. Catching it in the reflection of the water was startling. Actually, forget later. Now was a good time.

He limped over to Daisy's seething with rage with at every step.

"Hey, Daisy, you got any masks on sale?" he grunted, pulling out some caps.

"Yeah, a couple. Always try to keep one on hand for self-conscious folks like you." she said softly, taking out what she had.

Warren rolled his eyes at the comment and inspected them. A sack hood. All the freaks wore that one. They were always hopped up on some sort of chem and smelled horrible.

A helmet... No.

But there seemed to be a hat. One of those winter ones. He took that and a surgical mask. Then he inspected the eyewear.

"You'd save a lot of caps by just keeping the mask off. You look just fine. I mean, you're not a ghoul." she wriggled her brow line. "Though, you'd be a pretty attractive one."

"Thanks." he grunted and placed the caps on the table.

He only had 20 left.

But he pulled the hat over his ears and put the surgical mask on. Felt a bit better.

He thanked Daisy and made his way back to the hotel-- only to be greeted by a familiar voice.

"Hey, Warren."

Nate.

And Nick Valentine.

"Well, fancy seein' you again." Nick chuckled and gave him a pack of cigarettes. Warren stood there awkwardly.

Nate seemed somber, too.

"Yeah. Uh. What happened?"

"Killed the bastard that killed my wife and took my son. Now we're gonna see what Doctor Amari can do with this."

Nate held up something pink, with wires coming out of it. Warren stepped back and winced.

"Congrats on the revenge. Shouldn't look so sad about it. The bastard's dead."

Nate gave him a look he couldn't decipher. Warren kind of wanted Nate to comment on his leg and crutch. But Nate was understandably wrapped up in his own stuff right now.

"What's Nick here for?" Warren asked after the awkward silence.

"We're gonna put some of that brain in my head. We're gonna see if we can get into his memories." Nick explained.

What the fuck were they on about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know ive been spelling 'stimpak' as 'stimpack' since 2015? did you know i found out it was 'pak' a few days ago?


	7. Hourglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warren is going stir-crazy and Stur-crazy

Warren finished up the gun, looking at it with pride. The best combat shotgun to ever exist was now his. And next would be a gun for Sturges. Sturges didn't 'do' guns, and his was a shitty pipe pistol like most of the idiot raiders had. And he deserved better than that. So he would make him at least a 10mm pistol. But... He didn't have any money. He'd spent the last of it at the hotel. Maybe Nate had one... If he was up to even speaking with  Warren after all the Kellogg drama.

They'd been in there a while. Warren was very disinterested after the two were just in the memory pods and had limped around to do his own thing. Maybe they'd go back to Sanctuary after this.

It frustrated him to no end knowing he'd basically be stuck in one place for so long.

And Deacon had left, apparently.

Seriously, he knew that guy. He fucking knew him. He'd recognise that voice anywhere. But fucking where from?

While he was stewing in a mix of frustrated confusion and trying to come up with how to get a 10mm, someone had walked up to him.

The mayor sit down next to him and inspected his shotgun.

"H-hey, Hancock..."

"You here to steal some more shit from my warehouse or are ya done with that?" he asked dully.

"That was months ago, man... Not my fault the locks were easy to pick. And I'm done fuckin' around with raiders, you know?" Warren shrugged. "I just... Dunno what to do now. And I only have 10 caps. Can't pay you back. Maybe I could do some work after my leg's fixed."

"Broke your leg again?" Hancock snorted. "Heard you busted in hopped up on maybe three shots of Pyscho. I'm surprised you're not dead."

"I took one, then... appeared here, cooking myself food... It was weird."

"That don't sound healthy, brother. And that's me sayin' that. Might wanna tone it down, eh?"

Warren only sighed heavily.

"You got a 10mm pistol?" he asked, leaning back and looking at the mayor. He was a fucking ghoul. How was he so cool about it?

"You're lookin' at the wrong guy, stickyfingers. K-L-E-O's the one with the--"

"I don't have any caps and nothing to sell but my food and clothes." Which was his own fault, really. Apparently most of his food had been eaten at some point, too. "I don't even have hotel money."

"Hm. Well, if ya promise not to steal any more shit you can stay at the Statehouse till you can walk out of here without snappin' your leg."

"Sure. Uh. Thanks."

"Even though you stole from me, you also gave me a ton of Jet." Hancock grinned. "So let's say we're even, eh? As for the gun, though, outta luck. Looks like you got a good one here."

"I'm making one for my friend." Friend? Was Sturges really a friend, or someone he latched on to for some reason? Either way, a pipe pistol was shit.

"Uh huh. Well, if I get one I'll give it to ya. No bullets, though."

"Fine."

+

It was a mattress, but it was free. He was tired anyway. But his mind was racing.

How was Sturges doing? How was Nate doing after killing that one guy? And Nick...?  Well, he couldn't remember why Nick was there, but it was probably something professional and dectective-y.

He wanted to find a fishing pole. Two of them, so he could go fishing with Sturges.

Fishing.

His heart ached again. Far Harbor really used to be a place to call home. Before his friends turned into cannibals and the fog brought out all the monsters.

If the place ever turned back to normal, taking Sturges and Nate there to fish would be nice. He'd show them how to gut and de-bone a fish. How to cook it just right, and what sides went well with it.

If only his leg wasn't so fucking stupid. And if only Sanctuary would... dunno... Not be full of fucking assholes? Maybe he'd just wander aimlessly around that Red Rocket when he got back, if Nate wasn't there. Sure, he was harrassed with Nate around, but it wasn't as severe and people only mumbled about him instead of coming up and harassing him. Trying to get him to prove them right. The thought alone made him see red.

He couldn't go looking like this to Sturges anyway. He'd scare him off.

He rolled over, grabbed the Nuka Cola and took a couple gulps. Sighed. Stared at the ceiling.

Why did he want Sturges so badly? It made no damn sense. All he did was cause the guy grief...

+

Nate had to go to the Glowing fucking Sea. Which was already pretty damn crazy. But even crazier? This Institute teleportation bullshit. Nate said he'd stop by Sanctuary to recuperate a bit.

"I'm coming with you." Warren said firmly.

"To the Glowing Sea?"

"Pfft! Fuck no, dude! To Sanctuary."

"I dunno with your leg like that... You should probably rest."

Nate didn't want him around.

No, no, he just wanted Warren to heal.

But to be fair, who actually wanted him around? Going back to Sanctuary would be a mistake anyway, Warren decided. So he let his ticket walk out of Goodneighbor.

"I'll come back for you, alright?" Nate held his shoulder.

Warren pushed his hand away. "Sanctuary isn't good for me anyway. Everyone and the guards hate me."

"I'll talk to them, then."

"Hey... When you see Sturges, could you tell him I'm sorry for runnin' away?"

"I will."

Nate felt bad. He really did. But he'd feel worse if he let Warren's leg get ruined by walking across the wastes on a crutch. He really genuinely planned to bring Warren with him, but...

He chuckled. "Want me to give him a kiss on the cheek for you?" Nate wriggled his eyebrows.

"I'm gonna fucking kick your ass." Warren said dully. "Fuck it, man. He probably hates me anyway. Forget it." He got up and limped pitifully over to the drinks and got a vodka. "See ya. Have fun in radioactive waste."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warren leaves

The General was back! And he also brought Nick Valentine, which was cool-- Nick was a great guy and Sturges really enjoyed hearing about the stuff he had to say. But deep down he'd hoped Warren would come along. After what happened last time, though... It still bugged him.

So many questions. Was he coming on too strong? Was he boring? Was Warren really just trying to gain his trust so he could learn the ins and outs of this place so he and some friends could raid it for all it had? Sturges didn't believe it for a second, but nearly everyone (save for Mama Murphy and Preston) seemed convinced and acted accordingly. Then had the gall to passive-aggressively talk about how they had to build a stronger wall for when Sturges invites his 'boyfriend' over next time.

Odd how quickly people change to hate on one person for no damn reason.

And apparently, Warren had something to say.

"He said he's sorry for running off. No idea the context of that, but he seemed pretty upset." Nate said. "He wanted to come with, too, but his leg's hurt pretty bad, so he can't really be walking from Goodneighbor to here, you know?" There was some guilt there.

"Oh. Uh. Thank you, General." How did he hurt his leg? He seemed like a good fighter, but so many things were going through his mind. "How was your trip?"

"Found out that the Institute uses teleportation to get around."

Whaaaat? "Seriously? That's crazy..." Actually pretty insane. "Well... Now what?"

So Nate explained his plan-- going into the Glowing Sea, talking to an ex-Institute scientist (was that even possible?), and seeing if he could get more info.

"Well, luckily I upgraded that power armor, right?" Sturges grinned. "It's on the porch if you need it. And no-- again, I ain't gonna take your caps."

"C'mon, Sturges."

"Nope." he took a breath. Folded his arms. He was preoccupied suddenly. Warren was hurt. And all the way in Goodneighbor. "Uh. Take care of Warren, alright?"

Nate was curious, and a smile tugged at his lips.

"I will. Next time I see him, I'll bring him over."

"They don't like him here. Everyone tries to force 'im away. Guards hate 'im, settlers hate 'im. All cuz he looks like a raider. Won't give him a damn chance. Bring him to the garage." Sturges sighed. Why was his heart so heavy? Dear lord.

"... Alright."

÷

He remembered his first day in the Commonwealth. Only had the clothes on his back and some ammo, but no gun. He didn't even really want to go to Boston, but there was no other choice. The moment he made it to shore, Mirelurks exploded from the ground and tried to make short work of him, but he was good at running away. Managed to scavenge some guns and food-- Well. No. Not exactly scavenge. Steal was the correct word. A pipe-pistol, which he loathed. Sugar bombs, Fancy Lads, canned meat... Anything he could carry. The people were gone and the shit was unguarded. They wanted it stolen.

He didn't get to Libertalia until a week after he  hit the shore. By then he'd had armor and caps and enough food to keep him sated for a good while. It was on the sea. What else did he need? And he knew damn well of raiders. He wasn't stupid. They were just like the non-cannibalistic version of the 'trappers'.

Apparently one raider had seen him and took interest, because he was approached with a gun in his face. Warren was not one to take a gun to the face lightly, and shot the chick. She didn't die. In fact, he was greeted and sort of applauded by the heavily armored outlaws.

'We like a guy who takes no shit!' the woman he shot cheered.

He eventually ended up joining them. Shelter was shelter. And he would be earning caps, which you could never have too many of. His lockpicking skills were probably the best out of everyone's, and everyone always asked him to mod their guns.

He was on board with running with them. Stealing, getting caps, putting the fear into folks.

But then they started bringing traders into cages. Cages he'd assumed were for mirelurks or other seabeasts.

And they would kill them. For fun.

Warren decided Libertalia was not the place for him. On the next little mission, he ran away.

Was that all Warren was good at? Running? It was cowardly, and he couldn't fucking stand it. He slammed his fist against the floor, making the checker board and pieces fly in the air. It's not like it mattered, there was no one else playing with him.

Fuck the fog. Fuck the Children of Atom. Fuck Sanctuary. Fuck everything. Most importantly, fuck himself. The second he could walk on this leg, he'd go back and meet with Sturges. Before he ended up with in those cages. He wouldn't run away again.

+

It was two fucking weeks. Two weeks he spent drunk and asleep. Sometimes he'd find himself with his head on Hancock's shoulder slurring something about how Hancock's gun was just like Nate's. And equally as stupid. Other times he'd find himself on the floor staring at the ceiling after falling asleep the sixth time that day. The visions of him and Sturges talking and mindlessly flirting, modding guns and fixing stuff together were just that. Visions. For now.

He got the okay from Amari and left. Hancock decided to come with him, saying he'd need someone to carry him if he broke his leg again. Warren didn't appreciate the words, but he did appreciate the sentiment.

"They like you in Sanctuary?" Warren asked, finishing off the addictol.

"Course they do." Hancock smiled. "I'm only the sexiest ghoul they laid eyes on."

"... Okay." Warren blinked and pulled his mask back over his mouth. "Uh. I'm only going there to see one person."

"Yeah? I heard Nate went to the goddamn Glowing Sea, though."

"He's... His... It..." Jesus. He took a deep breath. "Sturges. The idiot with the goggles."

"Ohh! You've been talking about that guy all damn week!" Hancock chuckled.

"Yeah." Warren grumbled. So they set off to Sanctuary.


	9. Persevere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warren has a panic attack

Hancock was a great companion, and extremely good in battle, even with the shitty gun. Warren had decided to loot around for some magazines to bring back-- the best he could find, anyway. Most of them were legible. And a library book. It was an encyclopedia, which he let Hancock read in their down time.

"He had some little model robots in his house." Warren said, rocking slightly, not liking the pain in his leg, but pushing through it. "I wanted to find some, but..." He should've asked about it. Fuck. Idiot.

"I'll let ya know if I see any, brother." Hancock said.

They camped for the night. Though Warren couldn't sleep. A gunfight was happening in the distance. He wanted to jump in like a hero, but knowing his luck it'd be some fucking--

There was the whistle of a mini-nuke. It sent violent chills down his spine. Hancock jolted up and they both stared at the small mushroom cloud, then gathered their things and ran. They weren't sure where, but it needed to be out of the way.

"Fucking hell." His heart was pounding in his chest. A vertibird flew in quickly, but was shot down. Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"What the hell is going on? I hate those tin-cans too, but a fucking mini-nuke?" Hancock caught his breath.

Warren felt like he was gonna piss himself. But he held his breath. Closed his eyes. Tried to relax. But he was pissed off and scared.

And sick of running away. But... Wouldn't it be smart to leave? Yeah. Of course it would. But Warren wasn't known for being smart. Instead he walked carefully into the rubble. God, he was no good with sniping, but he was great with shooting someone in the neck.

The clouds smelled like death and made him dizzy. Power armor crowded the ground. There were two wrecked vertibirds, actually.

One Brotherhood soldier was trying to get up. He could see through the plumes of smoke the person with the mini-nuke launcher. Dumbass was actually pretty hurt from using the thing so close-range.

Warren would finish him off, treading carefully, trying his hardest to ignore the sounds of the dying and the way he couldn't breathe.

This asshole looked familiar.

This was one of Tar's guys.

What was left of the group had turned around and kept walking, thankfully. Apparently the raiders had been hurt by the nuke as well. No fucking shit. What a goddamn dumbass.

He administered himself some Med-X and went in and shot the guy in the back of the head. Really, he should've been used to the gore, but his stomach felt violently ill as the head rolled to the ground. And the body went stiff and fell with a sickening thud. The other two raiders, who had barely lifted their guns, were shot down before Warren could notice.

Right. Hancock.

"I think that's all of them."

Despite all the din, it was quiet.

Warren swallowed back the vomit that'd risen up his throat.

The guy had ten more mini-nukes on him. And a note. It was bloody and kind of crisp around the edges, but it was still legible.

* _Salem, Atom Cats,_ _Greygarden_ _, The Slog,_ _Libertalia_ _, CHECK ALL VAULTS_ *

And then a list of names of people with some vague descriptions. A few names he recognised were crossed out. Some of the 'offenses' were 'looked at him wrong' or 'took an extra handful of sugar bombs'.

And there was his name.

'Warren. fucked up face, big broken honker. shitty haircut. stole a huge supply of guns and ran. last seen in October, Backstreet Apparel.'

Okay, at least it was outdated. Right? Haha. When he'd stepped back, he nearly tripped on something.

Someone's arm.

He pulled down his mask and vomited off to the side, sweat pouring all over his body. Hancock rubbed his back and looked away out if respect and sighed deeply.

"Too much, buddy?" he asked.

"If they see me go in there... If they find me... They'll destroy Sanctuary." With mini-nukes. He weakly handed Hancock the note and tried his best to find any valuables. Caps. As long as he focused on the objects and not the fact it was a dead body he was stealing from. Well, was it stealing really? Looting was the better word.

"Pretty fucked up." Hancock's voice was somber. "It's up to you. You said you wanted to go to Sanctuary."

"You think Nate and the Minutemen could put up a fight against monsters like this?"

"Oh, absolutely. Me and him fought off a deathclaw, yao guai, and a super mutant suicider at the same time."

Hancock embellished at times. But his stories about Nate usually seemed honest.

"I can't... I can't fight them... Fucking mini-nukes?" he asked desperately. "They're gonna destroy that place. I don't wanna lead them there, but I wanna see him again."

"Hey, slow down." Hancock placed a hand on Warren's heaving chest. "You're gonna make yourself pass out. We got this. These assholes won't stand a chance. And once we get there, maybe we can give them a warning. But we gotta get there first. Don't ya wanna see your boyfriend?"

"What if the place is already in shambles? What if we walk in and everyone's dead? What if Nate died in the glowing sea?" Warren anguished, tears burning his eyes. Fuck, goddamn it. The tears alone pissed him off. The smell of radiation and death was getting to him. Hancock helped him out of the devastation and led him to an alley and sat with him as he panicked.

"I know you don't do much chems anymore, but you need to chill out. Really. Take some Jet, some Mentats, hell, drink something." Hancock said. Warren moved away and caught his breath. Tried to clear his mind, but, fuck, everything is so fucked up. Everywhere. All the time.

But damn it. He had to go see and apologise to Sturges before it was too late. And warn the people of Sanctuary that they might be a target. If they don't believe him, that's their fault.

So he got up. His knees were weak and his leg hurt, but he had to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly i dont even want Warren to keep suffering and crying but he does it anyway... poor guy :(


	10. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3

"Aw fuck, it's this asshole again."

"Looks like he dragged Hancock in with him, too."

The guards groaned almost in unison. Sturges had gone to the fountain to get some water. And goddamn, if his heart hadn't flourished at the idea of seeing Warren again. And it sounded like he was yelling already.

"Hey, we got some real shit you guys need to know." Hancock's rough voice popped up over the noise of cocking guns. "And don't fucking shoot this guy. C'mon, assholes."

So Warren explained the note and even handed it over to a very cautious guard. Sturges had gone to get a few things. Mainly a gift and some drinks.

By the time he got to the gate, Warren was walking across the bridge, ranting to Hancock.

"If you wanna see that bastard so bad, go meet him somewhere else. Someone wants him dead. There's literally zero reason for him to be here of all places now." one guard said.

÷

Warren had been resting at the patio chair under the port. Hancock was talking to him, while Warren just teemed with stress. Being this close to the settlement was probably dangerous. He could get everyone killed. Fuck, where was Nate? What would he even say to Sturges? Especially with Hancock here?

Either way, Sturges was here. Warren had to double-- no, triple-take and do his damndest not to do something stupid like hug him. That'd be stupid right? Real stupid. Again, though, Warren wasn't known for his smarts.

His arms were strong and warm. Apparently he'd been working on something, too. But it felt nice and maybe just a bit intoxicating and heart-racing to actually be hugged by someone like Sturges. Like, actually hugged. His bones popped.

"Oh damn, sorry, buddy." Sturges chuckled, his cheeks warm. Warren had made himself comfortable in the man's arms and said nothing. He was thinking. "I'm glad to see you again. And you brought Hancock. How are ya, mayor?"

If he focused too much on the fact that Sturges was still holding him, he'd surely start getting sputtery and embarrassed. In fact, he'd probably run away again. If he focused too much on how good he smelled, of how nice his muscles were, and how protective of a grip he had on him... well, he'd probably pass out. He was getting weak-kneed already. Poor Sturges, having to deal with someone like him.

Oh fuck. Oh shit. He never finished the gun. He was too busy wallowing in his misery. He cursed and pushed himself out of the extremely pleasant embrace and went into his bag, not listening to any conversations, trying not to think of the extended contact he just had.

Some more tape. The whiskey. The magazines. Some screws, cuz why not? And some armor. All for Sturges, but not the goddamn gun. Fear grabbed his gut tight.

"Eh, Warren?" Hancock asked, throwing a look over at him.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you wanted some alone time. I'll buy ya some food from inside this place. Maybe spend the night while you two get comfy." his voice lowered into a sultry tone as he left anyway. Warren's face was steaming, red as the Nuka Cherry Sturges placed in front of him.

"Heh. Hancock's a real card." Sturges said sheepishly. "Cool guy. Just don't like it when he  gives Mama Murphy chems..." he admitted. "He doesn't do it much, but even if it's just a thing of jet..." he shrugged.

"Hancock's cool..." Warren said quietly. "Is this for me?"

"Yup. Actually, I've been trying to fix this up for ya, too."

It was hard to miss the thing, it was pretty dark and it blended in with the scenery. But he was holding a fishing pole.

Oh jeez. Ohhh jeez. Don't fucking cry, you pussy. Don't fucking do it.

"R-really?" his voice cracked.

"Couldn't get how excited you were about it outta my head." Sturges admitted, taking Hancock's spot in the chair.  "And your leg. Is it doin' alright? It's all healed, right?"

"You know, we barely know each other. And here I am... Fuckin' head over heels."

Oh.

He could feel the color drain from his face.

"In love with this rod you gave me. T-that's not a euphemism, I'm t-- I'm talking about the pole. I-I mean-- I-I mean the fishing pole!"

Sturges chuckled. Warren wanted to disappear.

"You made this for me even though I walked out on you?"

"Yup. Look. I know how you feel about Sanctuary. And how the people there feel about you. It's probably easier on you to get out of there than walking on eggshells. I don't want ya uncomfortable, you know."

Too late.

"We talked for a few days. I know enough about you to know I wanna know you even better. Not a euphemism, either."

Warren popped open the Nuka Cherry. This shit was always so damn good. Seemed as hard to come by as Nuka Quantum. He gulped about a third of it down before stopping and offering some to Sturges. He politely declined.

"I have someone after me. I think. I'm pretty scared." Warren said. "And... I... I don't want you or Sanctuary hurt. As much as I fucking hate that place, I know you, Nate, the Minutemen, put a lot of work into it." He recounted the mini-nuke incident to Sturges, who seemed tense.

"That's... Fucked up. No wonder the guys are holding a meeting." Warren watched Sturges sigh, look to the gate, then back at him. They met eyes.

Warren was frozen.

Blue eyes.

"You ever think we used to know each other?" he kept saying stupid things! Christ! What garbage was he even talking about?

"I would remember you, I think." Sturges said. "Plus, Quincy is where I spent the majority of my time." he shrugged. But there was a small smile on his lips. A soft look on his face. Goddamn it.

"You're not cold?" he was wearing a shirt and that leather jacket again. "I used to have lots of Nuka World jackets. They're all probably at Backstreet Apparel." But he shouldn't step foot there.

"Want me to light a fire?" Sturges got up, lit a match, and tossed it in the fire barrel nearby.

They sat around it, close. Hands almost touching, but mostly close to the barrel to keep warm.

"You never told me about your leg." Sturges said.

"Oh. This old thing." Warren scoffed. "Just kinda aches now. Some dogs bit into it. Real deep. Then apparently I broken while I was hopped up on psycho. Let me tell you, I fucking hate being stuck in one spot against my will. Waited there two fucking weeks. Waste of time." he grumbled.

"Well, I'm glad you let it heal."

He looked handsome in the orange glow of the fire. And for a moment, Warren saw flashes. That gut-wrenching whistle. Ground shaking beneath his feet.

"Whoa, whoa, you're alright, War." Sturges said softly, holding his wrist. He'd gotten to his feet  or something, as if that would protect Sturges from a fucking nuke. "You're okay."

He caught his breath, but he felt numb. Hot. The world was spinning, colors splashed in his vision.

The chopped up raiders.

The destroyed Brotherhood soliders.

Those could all be Sturges.

He heard himself whine and cover his ears and shut his eyes tight.

Those poor traders and innocent people.

If the Brotherhood and their huge suits couldn't take a nuke, no one else stood a chance. He didn't want this on Sturges or Nate or anyone.

He was gonna get him hurt.

But he let Sturges hold him again. The stars were lovely tonight. And even as he was coming down from a panic attack, he felt... at home.


	11. Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama Murphy talks to Sturges

He fully expected Marcy to come marching towards him, fire in her eyes. She'd been the main one stirring up rumors and paranoia about Warren. And with the news they just recieved, her hate and fear seemed even more justified.

'Nukes!' Warren's voice was broken and muffled, filled with anger and fear. His tearful eyes had met Sturges', who held his trembling hand tightly. 'The fucking Brotherhood couldn't stop them!'

As soon as he stepped through the gate, lo and behold, there was Marcy, face twisted in anger. But Sturges couldn't exactly blame her anymore.

"I told you. You're going to get us fucking killed. Not only that, but Mama Murphy wants you. She's having one of her visions." Marcy clipped.

His stomach churned. Knees felt a bit weak. Was he really kiting along a real threat? A legitimate threat? Warren? He made his way over to the house, mind swimming. Please don't let this be Quincy again. Please, please, please... Warren was his friend, after all. Never had someone felt so like home so fast.

"There ya are, kid..."

She was going to die if she kept up with these chems. Fuck, he hated entertaining The Sight because of it, but her visions had never been wrong.

"Your friend's in real danger in the future."

"I-I know, Mama." What would he do if Warren died? "I wanna help 'im."

"I see... fire. Lots of flame. Danger."

Each word was a punch in the gut.

"Where, Mama? Here? For us? Or for Warren?" his voice cracked.

Her silence, even though it was only a few seconds, was making it nearly impossible to breathe. Whatever she said, he didn't want it. Warren didn't deserve death. He was so goddamn scared. Sanctuary would likely rejoice that the 'enemy' was gone, but...

"Kid... Wherever Warren is, that fire's gonna follow..." She was coming off her high already. "I know how much he means to you. And I saw a future where you two were happy..." she took a deep breath. "But he has to sort himself out first... And Sturges, stop clenchin' ya teeth. They'll crack at this rate."

What could he do? Just cast Warren away like everyone else? Leave him like a lost fuckin' puppy? Or risk those maniacs with mini-nukes destroying the place? Why was this an issue at all? Any sane person would pick their lives and home over an unstable ex-raider.

Was it selfish and stupid to keep being friendly with this guy? Why was the one person that filled his heart with this blossoming, light feeling the one surrounded by so much bullshit and drama? Why couldn't Warren have been the regular, shitty raiders?

It was cold outside today. Leaves from the trees played tag with the along the broken road. The sky was a vibrant, clear blue. The sun hung in the back, slowly trudging higher and higher into the sky. Brahmin mooed. Settlers were working away. Talking peacefully, working hard, doing their damndest to survive in the hellhole people of hundreds of years past created. Sure, the true colors of the vocal minority were unsavory. Downright cruel, even. But none of them deserved to die.

And Warren. A lonely, scared soul wrapped up in things he didn't want to be wrapped up in. Total asshole to people at times, but Sturges had never been around in a situation where the rudeness wasn't earned. And to see someone treated so wrongly be so shaken up on top of everything tore Sturges apart. The man was trying to better himself from the raider life, and there it was, kicking him in the ass anyway.

He'd gathered the supplies and the model robot kits Warren had talked about and made his way back to Red Rocket. Brow furrowed, trying to ignore the whispers. Once he made it to the bridge he was greeted by Hancock.

"Hey." Sturges' voice was tired. The day had just begun.

"Need help carryin' that stuff, brother?"

Not really, but he accepted the help anyway. They meandered to the Red Rocket, Sturges stewing in thought.

"I'll let you known in advance. Ol' War drank a lot while you were gone."

"It's only been 20 minutes." Sturges blinked.

"I know, I was shocked too! But he's dead-set on doing a backflip for ya. Had to tie him down so he wouldn't break his damn neck." There was a mix of amusement and concern in his voice.

"Heh. Well, thanks, Hancock." So much for a serious conversation with Warren. He'd barely stepped foot near the rail leading to the station when he could hear Warren shouting the lines of Butcher Pete along with the radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'  
> He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'  
> He's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'  
> He just hacks, wacks, choppin' that meat


	12. drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warren's a bit drunk, but at least he's not depressed

Wow... Butcher Pete was so damn awesome. Warren wished it would come on again. Or maybe that Hancock would untie him. Sure, it was just by the wrists, but Warren wasn't in the mood for whatever kinky shit Hancock had in mind. He wanted to show Sturges a sick fucking backflip. Sure, his limbs felt a bit sore, but he could certainly still do one. He'd learn how. He'd surely impress him.

"Warren, Warren, Warren..." his voice was soft and his eyes seemed red and puffy. Warren could only seem to comprehend the fact that Sturges was there. That alone made him smile big.

Sturges had seen glances of Warren's face when it wasn't hidden away by some sort of mask or cloth. Scarred, like his face had been mauled by a deathclaw. Bruised, broken nose. Exhausted eyes, even a chip in his ear. How he sustained these grevious injuries to his face alone and survived was impressive. Though it was scary to think about. How wrecked was the rest of his body?

Still, though, seeing Warren without his mask felt like seeing someone naked.

"Wanna put on yer mask?" Sturges asked. Not because he hated seeing Warren's face. If anything, he wanted to see it more. Especially that big handsome smile. The way his eyes crinkled and, despite how glassy they were, seemed to look through him. Lovely brown eyes. Maybe Warren was right. Maybe somewhere, somehow, they * _had_ * met. It would give Sturges an excuse to give the others. Or, it would have anyway.

Warren's eyes went wide and he looked up, down, all around.

"I took it off cuz I felt like he was gonna vomit in it." Oh shit, Hancock was here. He deposited the things on the counter and stood there for a bit. "Ya gonna throw up, War?"

Of course Warren had started looking at Sturges again. "Hanny...... Untie me..."

"Nuh uh. No tricks or flips or any of that shit. You'll get hurt."

Warren sighed loudly. His breath smelled like vodka. "Sturges! Sturges, I just... I just wanted to show you a trick... Hol' on... D'ya think I'm ugly..."

"I think you're actually pretty handsome." Sturges admitted, a slight blush on his cheeks. Look, this was cute and all, but goddamn it he really needed to talk to him.

Warren gasped so loud he ended up coughing. Sturges pat his back till he settled down.

"Fuck! Hanny... Hanny... I don't need to backflip." he put his bound wrists up to Sturges. "Untie me... Unless you * _like_ * me tied up." Warren wriggled his eyebrows.

"Promise you won't hurt yourself, Warren? Or anyone else, really?" Hancock asked, mildly amused.

"Yeah! Ugh! No flips! No cartwheel! No fun... But it's okay, I still like you." he slurred as Hancock undid the rope. Immediately Warren threw his arms around Sturges and buried his face in his neck. "Look! It's Sturgy... Sturgeon... Surgeon..." he sighed and hugged Sturges like he was a teddy bear. "Mine."

He loved the contact. Something about it felt electric. Especially with his face buried in his neck. God, Sturges was so damn red.

"It sure is, buddy. Now remember. If he says to stop touching him or he's not interested, stop touching him, alright?" Like he was a child. Sturges could only assume Warren and Hancock knew each other. And for longer than he and Warren knew each other. Nate had said Warren spends a lot of time in Goodneighbor.

"I woul' never hurt Sturnches..."

"Is he at Goodneighbor a lot?" Sturges asked, carefully walking Warren over to the couch and letting him lie down.

"Oh yeah. At least once a month."

"Don't tell him I stole shit from you!" Warren cried.

Sturges look to Hancock who chuckled sheeplishly.

"Took supplies from my warehouse."

"Nooooo!!" Warren anguished.

"But, he's off Jet, so he gives me all the jet he finds. Plus he ain't a raider anymore, so he's definitely more enjoyable to be around. Just gotta be careful your food and junk ain't gone by the time he leaves."

"I'm surprised he managed to survive stealing from you guys at all."

"Hell. Me too. Anyway, this guy keeps lookin' at ya like a puppy, so I'm gonna go back to Sanctuary."

"Don't give Mama Murphy any more chems, Hancock. Please. I think she might..." his voice cracked.

"Oh no..." Warren whispered.

"You got it, chief. I promise." Hancock said earnestly. "Have fun."

So they were alone. Warren seemed to enjoy taking Sturges' hand and putting it to his face, then began to giggle like a school girl.

"Warren... Why'd you get drunk?"

Those brown eyes went from the hand Warren was holding to meet up with the worried, blue ones.

"Cuzzzz! I'm a grown man! But!" Warren put a finger to his own lips and shushed loudly. Shifty eyes. Then he whispered. "I'm scared."

"Of Tar?"

"Uh huh." his voice cracked. "I wish I didn't like you. But you're just so smart and good with your hands--" Warren looked at his own, rough hand, them took Sturges' again. "How do you jack off with rough hands?"

Sturges facepalmed and massaged his temples.

"War, c'mon. Stay on topic."

"Keep your secrets then!" he sighed loudly, sitting up and resting on Sturges' shoulder. "Just remember... I'm pretty good at it... I'd love to hear you--"

"Stop it." Sturges said firmly. "I'm all' fine n' dandy with the harmless flirtin', but the sexual stuff, I'll pass."

Warren sniffled. "I-I'm sorry... Don't hate me..." Oh jeez, he actually had tears in his eyes. Still, Sturges wiped them away and Warren practically melted in his hand. "You know... If Tar kills you... I'm probably gonna kill myself."

Sturges' stomach felt like ice. He should be there helping reinforce the walls, no matter how many dirty looks he'll get.

"No, don't do that. You got a lot left to live for. Some handyman like me ain't worth all that."

"You are. Cuz it's my fault. I gotta run away again."

He wanted to say he didn't have to, but he was torn. The further Warren got, the less of a threat those Raiders would be. But Sturges didn't want to leave Sanctuary. It was the only place he could call home. And to leave it and all those people without someone who actually knew what they were building? Was it selfish? Fuck, why wasn't Warren sober?

"Where to?" Sturges asked weakly.

"Dunno... Prolly Nuka World. It they let me in and I survive the death trip... I'll kill Colter... And the ugly stupid raiders... Free the traders... N' I'll come back for you... We can go on the tea cup rides..." he sighed happily and beamed at Sturges. Jesus Christ, his heart couldn't take much more of this. "I miss Far Harbor. I wanna go fish on a boat with you. But you fixed us fishing poles! Let's fish!"

Warren tried to get up. But jesus, he couldn't even take a step before Sturges had to catch him. Fishing would be out of the equation. He got Warren some water and made him stay down. Luckily Warren was getting tired already, which gave Sturges time to think.

"Hey... Think we'll ever fuck?" Warren whispered.

Christ.


	13. honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warren does something smart for once

"Thought I'd find you here."

This walking tin can was Nate. He felt hot and dizzy, and that wasn't just from the alcohol last night. At least his head wasn't pounding.

"Nate!" Warren cheered. But his smile turned very grim. "You need to make sure Sanctuary's strong enough to fight off assholes with mini-nukes."

"Uh... Why's that?"

What if Nate was in that pile of bodies? Warren took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Push it out of your mind, push it out of your mind. Don't think too much.

"People are after me. I just don't want all your hard work ruined." he said firmly. "Um. Anyway.  You survived the glowing sea! Holy shit!" It finally set in. "Wow! How'd it go!"

"Well... Is Sturges here? Might be faster to tell the both of you."

Warren led Nate into the garage. Sturges had heard someone clunking in and went to look anyway, but was pleasantly surprised to see Nate.

"Damn, welcome back, General! You tell Preston you're back?"

"Not yet. I actually really need your expertise."

"Don't blame ya. And let me fix up that armor while you're at it. This is my favorite model after all."

Warren touched his warm cheeks absently. Why was he so handsome? And smart? And good at stuff? Sturges made sure the turret he was working on was cleaned up and took the blueprint Nate handed him.

His eyes went wide, raised his eyebrows, and whistled.

"So you weren't kiddin' about this teleportation shit. Wow."

"Whoa, teleportation?" Warren blinked. "Holy shit... Really?" It was impossible to comprehend that at all. Still, Nate (who was out of his power armor) nodded. "How is that possible?"

"I need to take a good long look at these. You get some rest, we can start on this tomorrow, or as soon as I can wrap my head around this." Sturges placed the plans on the table and inspected them, then asked Warren to bring him some paper and pencils.

"Did you bring back any sweet loot, dude?" Warren asked Nate as placed the paper and pencils on the table.

"Got a lot of scorpion meat. There are some religious nuts over there called the Children of Atom."

"Figures those crazy assholes would be in the glowing sea." Warren rolled his eyes and made sure his mask was on securely. "Dumbasses."

"You know them?"

"I should take us to Far Harbor sometime." he threw a half look at Sturges. "The Idiots of Atom have a whole little area set up with all the rads a man could ask for. Said the fog is a gift from Atom."

"Far Harbor?" Had Nate never heard him talk about it? Huh.

"Great place for seafood and cannibals."

Nate didn't respond, but instead stretched. Yawned.

"You guys wanna come to Sanctuary with me? I'm gonna shower and change."

"Ooh, an invite." Warren snickered. "I'm gonna pass. I'm sure the guards will tell you why."

Nate didn't seem too happy about that, but patted his shoulder. "I'll come back after I get some rest, then."

"Sleep tight, General. You deserve it. Hell, I'm sure we'll have a feast today cuz of your return." Sturges smiled.

So Nate left. Poor guy would probably sleep for a week before even bothering to eat. He wanted to follow, to talk with his friend, but he really, really couldn't. And now Warren would be standing awkwardly around Sturges, who was already stewed in thought. He watched him write down some smart people shit and draw squares. He had some really hard handwriting, but it was pretty fitting.

"Warren."

Warren jumped.

"Yeah?"

"You can work on the rest of that turret, if ya wanna. Actually, it'd be real great if you could." Sturges said gently. "Look... The news about that raider guy's got me worried. Not gonna lie. I don't wanna lose another place I called home again." he scribbled some words on the papers, then looked at Warren, who was frozen at the mention of it.

"I-I know."

"I wanna be with ya, though." he said softly as Warren sat down next to the nearly finished turret. He could see Warren's face out of the corner of his eye. "That sounds real romantic, I know. But that's why this is so hard." He couldn't find it in him to look Warren in the eye. He was embarrassed. Scared. Trying to make sense of these plans that looked like chicken scratch.

"What do you mean by that." It was a firm question.

"I mean... I care about ya. If you haven't noticed. If you left, I'd be pretty crushed. But if Sanctuary..." he lost his breath. He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. Warren did not get up to comfort him, he just waited for him to continue. "I can't have another Quincy. I lost too many friends. Too many people. Too many smiles and good souls."

"You should put your home first." What an odd tone Warren had. Sturges couldn't place it.

"But. It's not home without you. While you were out breaking your legs, I just felt... weird. Having you around brightens my whole damn day. I felt this weird sorta emptiness. And fear."

"I think you're putting way too much emotion into a chicken-shit ex-raider, Sturges." Warren said dully. He began putting the rest of the turret together with rough but shaky action. Filling it with the gas, tightening the bolts. He was fuming. It was his own fault.

"I... was runnin' on the assumption that you had some big feelin's for me." he said sheepishly. "Sorry. But my feelings are still--"

"I didn't say I don't want to be together-- o-or whatever the fuck..." he huffed and screwed the plates together. "I just don't want you wasting your time being shat on by those folk in your home cuz you're out here with me. And I don't want any of those fucking bastards to kill anyone. Especially you." his voice cracked.

"I love hearin' you talk about your fun in Maine. And fishin'. I wanna go together soon. But I'm gonna be workin' on this... teleport hijacker for a while."

"I know." Warren looked at the completed product and lugged it over to the other three machine gun turrets. "I... I'm gonna go."

"Why?"

A cold breeze shook the lights for a moment. Warren went to turn the heater on, but couldn't really find his words. It should have been obvious why he was leaving.

"A...are you stupid? I'm leaving so your fucking town won't get blown to fucking pieces."

"Do you really think he's following you?"

"I don't wanna risk it. Really." he said somberly. "I... I... Um. Good luck. With the teleporter thing. It seems like real easy shit for someone like you." he pulled down his mask and smiled some. "Maybe I'll come back once Tar and his band of roaming retards are dead."

Sturges bit his lip, rested his hand on his chin. Took a deep, shaky breath and looked away.

"Hey... Why are you cryin'?" Warren asked gently, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Mama Murphy said she saw fire and danger followin' ya... I... I don't want you to get burned." his voice was weird, like he was holding back his dam of tears.

"I'll be fine. And if I'm not," he did a big shrug. "oh well. You guys are better off without me anyway. I don't do shit around here except get on the local's nerves. Why you took a shine to me at all surprises me to this day."

"I dunno. You always gave me stuff after your travels with the General. I mean... I dunno. When I put it that way it sounds selfish. But just knowin' you were out there, thinkin' of me when you were riskin' your life... I dunno." he sighed and managed to look at Warren, who had the softest fucking look on his face. "I should be asking why you took a shine on me."

"You had goggles, a pompadour, and some weird shit on your overalls." Warren shrugged. "Okay. I'm gonna pack."

Warren finished packing about 10 minutes later. He had enough to make it to Diamond City. As much as he fucking loathed that place, it was safe, and big enough to where the entire place wouldn't be destroyed by a mini-nuke. Even if they didn't let him in, just the area was safe enough.

"Did you pack a jacket? It's gettin' cold out there."

"C-C'mon man, why're you so choked up about this?" Warren asked.

Sturges just waited for him to respond to the jacket question, blinking back tears. Sturges himself probably wasn't sure about the waterworks.

"Yeah. I got a jacket. Look, I'll be back, okay? I just..." he sighed.

"Just be careful, Warren. Please. Don't get yourself killed." Oh fuck. He was crying. Not wailing or weeping or anything, but he certainly had tears running down his face. Warren was seeing red. Warren deserved to be emotional about this and suffer for it. Not Sturges. How fucking stupid.

God fucking dammit. Whatever. Him crying was better than him being fucking dead.

He pulled the handyman into a hug, and damn did he hug back. It made his stomach flutter and his heart race a mile a minute. This man was his home. Leaving him was gonna hurt. But Warren had no plans of coming back here. At least not while Tar was around. But they would be better off without him here.

"Warren. Please come back soon." Sturges said  weakly as they pulled away from each other.

'You don't need me' is what he wanted to say. Sturges would move on and be better for it. That's what Warren wanted. But he lied and said, "I will."

"Promise?"

"No."

"At... least you're honest." Sturges sighed as Warren wiped his tears away. "I just don't like this feeling that I'm never gonna see you again."

Warren shrugged. What was the proper way to respond to that?

But lips were on his for a whisper of a moment. His heart felt like it was going to explode. His fingers felt numb. Butterflies poured into his stomach and he was dizzy. He gave Sturges a kiss back. It wasn't as gentle as Sturges', Warren was never known for gentleness. But Sturges accepted it and held him close, not wanting him to leave, but knowing he will anyway.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warren has a bad time and sturges gets offered something

It had only been two days. His stomach churned, the world was spinning, he couldn't sleep. His limbs felt like lead. His heart ached.

Why did he do that? Why did he run? He knew why he ran, but goddamn it, why did he have to?? He'd gotten what he wanted. Affection from someone he adored. It was right there in his hands, in his arms, ready to be with him. But... Fuck.

Focus on getting to a settlement. Maybe he'd harrass a settler to let him sleep in their bed.

He happened upon one-- a shitty little shack with some nice crops, ripe for shoving into his bag-- as night fell. He could barely keep his eyes open. His movement had slowed to a crawl.

"No raiders!"

He almost shit his pants.

"I need a place to sleep." he called, voice heavy as an anchor. "Please."

"One step closer and I'll shoot!" the farmer shouted.

"N-no, c'mon, I'm..." wasn't Nate the leader of the Minutemen? "with the Minutemen!"

The settler cocked their gun.

"Nice try asshole, but you've put a gun to my head one too many times before."

Oh.

A bullet whizzed by his arm. His insides felt like ice, but his skin began to flush with rage.

"Fucking kill me then!" he roared. "I don't give a shit!"

The settler faltered and nearly dropped his gun. Warren had scared him. But he didn't want to kill Warren, which was obvious by the bullets landing in the grass several feet ahead or behind him.

"You're a fucking pussy? Is that it?" He wanted to sound intimidating like usual. But he was just so tired. He tossed his own guns out behind him, along with his baseball bat and frag grenades. "There. I ain't got shit. Just let me sleep if you're not gonna let me take a dirt nap."

He wasn't sure how he'd persuaded this guy, but he was in a sleeping bag in the corner of the shack. With his guns. Emptied of ammo.

Fuck.

But finally, finally he was drifting off. His body relaxed. Sweet, sweet calm washed over him.

Then the sound of bombs in his ears jolted him up so fast he thought he'd vomit. His feet were numb as he jumped to them and scrambled for anything to protect Sturges. His vision was hazy as he looked out the window.

He wasn't with Sturges.

There was no smoke.

No screaming.

No bomb.

Just endless paranoia and being doomed to be awake for eternity.

÷

The last house was a fixed up. The walls were almost as reinforced as it got. The turrets were loaded and upgraded. Everything was a thousand times safer, wasn't it? Was there a way for a sneak attack? What if the guards turned against everyone?

No, no, no. Relax. Getting way too paranoid.

His stomach was cold.

Warren had to be alright, right? He was a raider after all, he knew his way around the commonwealth. Was it stupid to kiss him? No, not at all. Maybe moving a bit too fast, but...

"Heya, Sturges."

Nate was back from dinner.

"You gonna eat?"

"Not too hungry." he admitted, a bit tired.

Nate seemed skeptical and handed him a can of Cram and a spoon. "Worried about Warren?"

"Heh. Is it that obvious?" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. Teary eyes trying to find something, anything interesting about this can of Cram.

"I don't think he'll be gone too long." Nate shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find him when I'm out in the wasteland." he seemed far away at that sentence. "Hell, you can come with me, if you want. War's probably gone to Goodneighbor again."

He's made worse trips. Was it a good idea to travel like this, with only Nate by his side? Not that he doubted the general by any means. The guy cleared the entire Museum of Freedom and a Deathclaw by himself. And with that power armor, he was unstoppable.

"I..." What would he do once he found Warren? What would Warren do? Run again? What if they found Warren dead in the ground? What would Sturges do in a fight? Sure, he was strong, but guns weren't his favorite things in the world.

But Warren...

"Let me sleep on it, General." He glanced to the suits of power armor on the porch.

~~~~


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warren's frustrated

The farmer had sent him out. Out of habit and maybe bitterness, he'd swiped some stuff. Water, food, more ammo, and some caps. His mind was swimming with anger, fear, exhaustion.

Where was he? The street seemed to last forever. But he had to be careful-- he only had 5 shells, and 20 rounds for his pistol.

No stimpaks. Apparently he was a fucking moron.

Not that it mattered, he was going to pass out as the sun rose, and be eaten by the next mutant or horrible wasteland concoction that made its way over.

Fucking dumbass. How did he ever make it on his own? Why was he failing so hard? What did he do to deserve this?

Well. Actually, he knew damn well. He thought about it for the last few seconds before he lost consciousness.

+

Well. He was either very lucky or in for some sort of fucked up treat. It isn't every day you wake up in a cleared out building, being nursed back to health by some--

Jesus Christ. It was that bald fuck. Donovan? No. Deacon. In a white shirt and jeans, sipping on something and going through some papers. His arm was bandaged up, fresh. Jeez, did he fight something off for Warren?

"Well, good morning, sunshine. Finally decided to join us here in the commonwealth?"

"How come--" Goddamn his mouth was sandpaper. He gulped down some fresh water, took a breath, and sat up. "How come every time I pass out, I wake up with you around?"

"Divine coincidence." Deacon shrugged. "Luckily you weren't hurt too bad. Just a giant protectron/assaultron mix trying to rip off your legs. Luckily I flew in, hacked them to hell, and brought you back here." he grinned.

Warren was mildly entertained. Though, he didn't feel like bothering with the details. All that mattered was... Going away.

"Well. Thanks. Kinda woulda prefered you let me rot."

"Nah, man. Don't you have your boyfriend in Sanctuary to see? Not Nate, the other one."

"We're not..." Warren rested his head on his knees and sighed. "What're you doing out here, anyway? Spying on people?"

"Clearing out places. Got the job done pretty well, huh?"

"Uh huh." Warren said absently. Why couldn't he forget about Sturges? Why did he have to be so fucking sad??

There was silence. Deacon finished off his drink, then made sure to give Warren some food. Deacon also made note to give Warren more ammo and stims.

"Man. Do I know you?"

"Probably."

"Why are you so nice to me? You know I was a raider, right? A huge fucking piece of garbage?"

"Well, aren't we all?" his usually chipper demeanor seemed a bit somber. "I know you're trying to better yourself out there."

Warren leaned against the peeling wall. Took in the cold air and the warm blanket. "I feel like I used to know him, too." he said aloud.

"Dunno who you're talking about, bud." Deacon waved.

Warren didn't respond, but just sat lost in thought for a few moments.

"Do you know a raider named Tar?"

"Know him? Shit, we're trying to hunt him down." Deacon seemed surprised.

"Really?? Do you know where he was last?"

"Got reports of him totally nuking USS Riptide.    Been on a real streak lately. We keep trying to get him, but he's too dangerous. And we already lost someone to the mess he's made, so we're trying to keep it safe." he sighed. "Why?"

"I'm on his list of people to kill. I-I... Sanctuary. I need you to keep Sanctuary and the Red Rocket next to it safe!" His eyes were wild. "Or-- I'll--" he quickly gathered up his stuff and loaded the rounds into his gun, hands shaking. "Thanks for saving me." he got up and went to the door, but Deacon's confused noise made him hesitate.

"You think he's going there next?"

"I don't know for sure. I need-- I need to know where he is. I need to kill him."

"Well good luck with that. Like I said, Riptide is where we last saw him. Probably headed to Beantown."

Then Warren would meet him there. Of course, Deacon liked preventing progress and made sure Warren sat down and rested.

"What the fuck? I need to kill that bastard!"

"I know, dumbass, but you got your leg hurt. The same one as last time. And you passed out from exhaustion. So you need some rest. Don't freak, I'll keep ya safe. Buuut, if some aliens pop by and ask for someone to probe, I might just hand you over." he winked.

"You're so weird, dude." Warren huffed. "Ugh. I'm not gonna be stuck here for two weeks, am I?"

"No. You just need some more sleep. Next time you wake up well-rested, I'll head out with you."

Warren gave up and decided to rest. Though to be honest, with Deacon just sitting there, it was a bit awkward. And he couldn't sleep anyways...

-

Sturges was overjoyed to see him. Such a handsome, heart melting smile on his face. And such a warm, caring hug... Warren could stay wrapped up forever in those strong arms.

'Hey, sweetheart. I really missed ya.' An electric  kiss to his temple. Warren sighed happily and pulled out a sick gun he'd made for Sturges.

'Wow, thanks! I was begginning to think you forgot.'

'Just don't shoot the fish. I've made that mistake before. They're not any good after that.' Warren chuckled. The boat they were on floated lazily with the waves into a giant mushroom cloud like it was the sunset.

'Bullets aren't good bait.' Sturges chuckled.

Warren leaned back and admired his friend. How strong he was, how talented he was, how--

His skin was burning. Peeling off. Sturges was screaming. The boat was falling apart. Warren desperately paddled to the pieces of boat Sturges was on.

'Sturges!' he cried, losing an arm to the debris, but continued to reach for the flaming man. Sturges made his way to the end of his thick sheet of ice, lightning striking around them. Saltwater in his mouth, wounds stinging. There was safety nearby. A house on a calm patch of land, just beyond where Warren was flailing.

Warren's leg was sliced off. Sturges's ripped arm reached out-- he took it. For a moment it was peaceful. They were on a small raft together. He could breathe.

But he heard the whistle of the mini-nuke and shot up in his bed.

-

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Caught his breath. Covered his eyes and tried his damndest not to cry. Fuck, he couldn't fucking sleep!

"You almost slept an hour." Deacon said, voice somber. "Try again."

"All I fucking get are nightmares! I dream about the bombs and I wake the fuck up." he said in defeat. "Hit me up with some Calmex."

"I don't have any chems like that." Deacon said quietly. "Sorry."

"Fucking hell." he groaned angrily. "Riptide... I need... I..." he shivered violently at his the memory of his dream. His arm and legs were gone, Sturges was hurt. Maybe the Riptide was a bad idea. He looked all around, trying to find something-- anything to distract him from the lump in his throat and the tears pricking his eyes.

'Did ya pack a jacket?' Sturges had asked.

Warren dug through his backpack and pulled a few out, put them on, and draped the blanket around his shoulders. He offered a jacket to Deacon.

"I'm good, thanks, man."

"You sure? You're just wearing a shirt."

"Hey, I'm wearing pants, too!"

Warren huffed and lay on the mattress. Tried, but failed to fall back asleep.

Got up and began to pace. Deacon didn't say anything, just watched for a moment and went back to his work.

C'mon. C'mon! There had to be something he could do! Some way he could help! The more he thought about his dream, the fear wasn't him losing his arm and legs. It was Sturges. Poor fucking Sturges. Did the dream mean when he got back in his arms, the nukes would fall? It would be just his luck.

"Hey, keep breathing like that and you'll pass out. Actually, keep breathing like that." Deacon chuckled. But he seemed concerned. "What's on your mind, man?"

"The fucking asshole destroying everything. He's looking for me. When he finds me, he'll kill me and destroy Sturges and Nate and all of fucking Sanctuary. I can't go back there."

"Got any idea why he's looking for you?"

"I stole his guns and ammo and left." Warren sighed. "I wouldn't give a shit about him killing me, usually, but..." his sigh was shaky. "Sturges."

Deacon smiled warmly. "Well, we'll make sure you make it safely to him, alright?"

"What if he's dead?"

"Does Tar even have any idea you've been to Sanctuary?" he asked firmly.  "You might just be riling yourself up for no reason. Still, can't fault ya for being safe."

Warren took out the note and showed it to Deacon. He read off the locations quietly and made note of the other places Tar had destroyed.

"Last place he saw me was at Backstreet Apparel."

"Good thing you weren't still there, huh?" Deacon finished copying the note and gave it back to Warren.

÷

The little sloth toy Warren gave him watched as Sturges finally managed to figure out what the hell this scientist was going on about. Nate went out for supplies while Sturges worked on the rest.

Sanctuary was heavily protected now. Hell, probably more fortified than Diamond City. But it felt suffocating. He spent the last few weeks working and working and working, trying to get his mind off Warren. Trying to think positively. He was tough. Knew his way around the wastes. So why did Sturges feel so sick?

"Teleport hijacker's almost ready to go." he told the stuffed sloth, Pete. "Maybe tell your friend to come back and watch it in action, eh?"

A fucking teleport hijacker. Goddamn. Of all the fucking things, it was * _teleportation_ *. Wouldn't Warren wanna see this? Fuck! There he goes again.

He took the soft toy and squeezed it. Why did Warren carry it around so much? And why did Sturges never give Warren anything in return? Was it selfish? Was he just not thinking?

Why'd Warren have to run when Sturges couldn't follow? This thing was important. Big fucking news.

He jumped as the toy squeaked. Jesus Christ.

He wanted to go out and find him. Nate said he could use the power armor whenever he wanted. But Sturges found himself stuck. The teleporter, Sanctuary, and Warren.

This was for the future of humanity. He knew Warren would be pissed off if he didn't at least finish making this thing.

So he took a deep, shaking breath. Got back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one lol
> 
> anyway im pretty mad i feel like ive rushed this whole thing but i get too excited and write really fast and fuck up the pacing
> 
> a lot of stuff that shouldve been included is in my drabble story. i know which ones are canon and which ones arent, but a lot are for funzies
> 
> and they build a biit more character than what i have in this so far... im gonna try to fix that in the coming chapters, otherwise this thing is just gonna be abandoned because i fucked up ;;


End file.
